The miserable purple heap spilling over one side of the sofa and huddling near the upright radio for warmth only let out a blustery sigh in reply. He had slithered home from work like greased lightning at the sight of the first flakes. He could feel it in his bones and under his scales and even his EYELIDS he hated the cold more than he hated teenagers and that really said something.

"I see a long tunnel with a bright light at the end..."